


Flameo Hotmen

by Tachi_Sakon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, AtLA AU, Fire Bender Meian Shuugo, M/M, Prince Miya Osamu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tachi_Sakon/pseuds/Tachi_Sakon
Summary: Miya Osamu, crown prince of the fire nation, did not just sign his will.Meian Shugo, the greatest fighter, did not just melt before the prince of the fire nation.Alternatively: Meian Shugo and Miya Osamu are fucked.
Relationships: Hirugami Fukurou & Meian Shuugo, Meian Shuugo/Miya Osamu, Meian Shuugo/Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Flameo Hotmen

_It’s like we’re the three stooges_.  Miya Osamu coughs into his fist, exchanging a glance with the dark haired swordsman beside him.  _ Why did he let Suna rope him into this. _

“Remind me,” he murmurs as his face illuminates from the flames that burst from the two fighters that the crowd circled, “how exactly did we end up here?” 

“I dunno,” the other replies, bored, eyes flickering to the blonde at his left, “‘Tsumu said he wanted t’see a fight.” 

Osamu’s attention returns to the front just in time to make out one of the men dodging a burst of flames.

“Three, two, one!” 

“Meian, Meian, Meian!” 

“Go Shugo!” 

“That’s it, you bastard!”

He rolls his eyes and turns back to Suna.  He has better things to do than to watch two volcanoes erupt.

“Couldn’t we have done somethin’ else instead, Sunarin?” 

“I don’t know about you,” Suna sighs, rolling his eyes. “But I’d rather be here than listen to yer brother’s whinin’ all night.”

“I hate how yer always able to make a valid argument.” 

“It’s a gift.” 

Osamu sighs and turns back to the fight, lips pursed; Suna beside him, eyes lifeless as always.  He has better things to do. 

_ But that changes when he lays his sights on Meian Shugo for the first time.  _

“Hey,” he finds himself asking Suna again. 

Suna nods, “Hm?” 

“Who’s that?” Osamu points at the man in the front who was standing over his opponent. 

Suna hums and follows Osamu’s gaze. “Hm, let’s see.”

_Fuck_ ,  Miya Osamu, crown prince of the fire nation, distinguished and unmatched in all the land, renowned soldier, thinks as he watches intently from beside his friend in the crowd as the most beautiful sight before him unfolds. 

“Oh,” Suna tilts his head, giving Osamu a sideways glance. “That’s Meian,” he says simply, but his eyes are saying more and Osamu doesn’t want to see. 

He focuses back on Meian. “Oh.” 

* * *

  
  
Meian Shugo, champion, winner of all the battles, beams and raises a fist into the air, hunched over the last body he beat to the ground and quirks an eyebrow at the audience as if daring anyone to challenge him. Meian Shugo with his muscles and scarred back, small burns in rings around his fingers. It was as if he was married to fire bending, as his opponents often joked. The crowd is still and Meian remains triumph. 

“No one dares to face him?” Fukuro asks from where he stand beside Meian, hand on his shoulder. 

The crowd remains silent. 

“Don’t waste your breath, Fukuro.” Meian sighs, shrugging the other man’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m calling it quits.” 

Fukuro shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he whispers back before turning to the crowd. “Is there really no one who can face him?” He shouts. “Going once, going twice—“

Meian lowers his fist, and just as he is about to leave the grounds, and Fukuro announcing him the winner, someone from the audience takes a step forwards. 

* * *

  
  
“‘Samu, where the fuck are ya goin’?” 

“To get my man.” 

“Are you fucking _delusional_ , get back here!” 

It’s too late. Osamu raises his hand, already pushing his way out of the crowd and making his way over to Meian.

“I’ll do it,” he says. _That’s right, tonight I’m getting my man._

* * *

  
  
“Give it up,” Meian groans as he cracks his neck, “no one’s gonna do it.” 

Fukuro remains determined. “I’ve gotta get my money somehow.” He says and Meian snickers, moving to stretch his arms and shoulders. “Someone has to. They aren’t _all_ chickens, you know.” 

“Somehow I have a hard time believing that,” 

“Shut up.” 

Fukuro is just about to lose all hope before a he spots someone walking over to them. His eyes go wide and face breaks out into a smile. “You might wanna believe me now,” he laughs, reaching out and grabbing Meian’s wrist, “because here comes someone now!” 

“What?” Meian frowns at Fukuro and snatches his wrist from his grip, standing back over his opponent. “You’re crazy,” he sighs, “no one out there’s gonna—  _ wait_,” 

Fukuro is grinning widely and Meian is now in shock. 

“Hold up,” the fighter shakes his head, “what.” 

Fukuro can’t hold his happiness back. He punches the air and hisses, “I’m about to get my money!” 

* * *

  
  
_I’m gonna die_.  Osamu stops in front of another man who is standing just before Meian. _I’m gonna fucking die._

His mind, however, has a different plan. And his confidence suddenly skyrockets. “I’ll do it,” he repeats softly. 

The man blocking his view of Meian extends a hand to him, “Your name, kid?” 

Osamu sighs, “Miya,” and the man introduces himself as Fukuro. They exchange a few head nods and thumbs up as they go over the rules and before long, Osamu is ready. 

“Ready?” Fukuro asks as Meian’s back is turned. 

Osamu nods. “As I’ll ever be.” 

“Great.” 

* * *

  
  
“What the hell did that dumbass get himself into.” 

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I just wanna see his ass get beat.” 

“Your such a great brother, Miya.” 

“I know! ‘Samu’s so lucky, isn’t he?” 

_I wouldn’t say that._ Suna ignores the idiocy and keeps his gaze at the front. He hopes that Osamu will make out of this alive. He wouldn’t be able to live with Atsumu without him, the horror. 

* * *

  
  
Meian can’t stop whispering soft  _ what the fuck’s  _ to himself, chest heaving as he watches Fukuro guide some stranger towards him. He watches Fukuro mouth something at him, and shakes his head even though he doesn’t know what he’s saying. He knows that it won’t end well.

Fukuro’s eyebrows raise as he shoots a look to Meian. “Could this be?” He announces, facing the crowd, arms thrown out. “A challenger here to bring the king down from his throne?” 

Meian is going to kill him. Sighing, he lifts himself up and meets his to be opponent. 

“So this is the king,” the stranger is saying, “some throne he’s got.”

Meian’s eyes darken.  _ Large mouth for such a small kid._ “Oh?” He returns, turning around. “Who are you?” 

The person shrugs. “Nobody important,” he says, a grin on his face. 

Meian doesn’t like cocky grins.  _This brat, he’s something else_.  “I don’t have time for nobodies in my streets.” 

His jaw clenches as the man’s grin stretches widely. _He really doesn’t like that grin. _

“I’m nobody important,” the stranger continues lightly, “just someone who’s gonna take that crown off yer head and throw it to the ground.” 

Meian’s eyebrows slowly rose higher and higher, beam darkening into a smirk as his eyes locked on the dark brown on the other. “High words for such a cute face,” he replies casually, waving a hand.

The other returned the darkness in his grin. “High words,” he hums, “for someone who is goin’ t’lose.” 

“You act like you have this fight in the bag,” Meian frowns.

The man shrugs. “That’s cause I do.” 

“Cheeky youth.” 

The man chortles and Meian rolls his eyes. 

“This will be a battle to remember!” Fukuro is saying to the audience. Meian resists the urge to throw a rock at him and keeps his gaze leveled with the stranger. “A battle of true kings!” 

“Well, you heard him.” Meian says.

“Yeah.” 

They stick out their hands and grasp them, leaning closer. 

“To a fair victory,” Meian murmurs. He tries not to think about how his opponent’s arms rivals his own as they flexed, but he couldn’t help the inevitable. He glances up and tilts his head. “You’ve got guts, I’ll grant you that.” He adds.

“Yeah, thanks. May the best man win,” the man hums and nods before meeting his gaze. “What?” 

“What’s your name?” Meian sighs. He should have known that this would take longer, fighting with new people. “Gotta know who I’m beating.”

“Fat chance old man. It’s Miya.” The man replies easily as if he forgot to introduce himself on regular basis. “Miya Osamu.” 

Meian nods and then points to himself, “Meian Shugo.” 

Osamu pretends that those arms aren’t making him weak, holding his breath until they let go of each other’s hands and quickly turns around to face the crowd as Meian does the same, talking with another fighter. His eyes dart from person to person until he finally pinpoints two dark haired men and a dyed blonde. Sighing, he gathers his robes and quickly steps over to them.

“ _Gah_ ,”  he gasps when he nears them. “I’m fucked.”

“‘Samu I can’t believe that yer goin’ to do this!” Atsumu yells, grabbing his brother’s shoulders and shaking him.

“ _I _ can’t believe that I’m doing this,” Osamu groans. “‘Tsumu why the fuck didn’t ya slap me?!” 

“How can I slap someone who looked like he was gonna kill me if I so much as touched a hair on his head?!” 

“Ye could’ve at least stopped me!” Osamu yells. He can’t believe that he just challenged Meian Shugo.  _The_ Meian Shugo. His mind is melting. “Or done  somethin ’!” 

“No. Accept your fate.” The curly haired servant chimes in. 

Osamu groans, “Sakusa!” 

“No. Go die.” 

  
Osamu is about to reply when Fukuro calls his name. He sighs, gathering himself as he looks back other to where Meian was standing, waiting for him with an arched eyebrow as he twirled something that looked strangely similar to a dagger between his fingers.   
  


“I just might,” he mutters, shooting a glare at Sakusa before striding back to the middle of the crowd. “Wish me luck.”   
  


“In gettin’ a man, or gettin’ out of this alive?” Suna snickers.   
  


“Gettin’ outta this alive.” Osamu says, but his mind yells, _Getting Meian to his knees.  
  
_

What a sight that would be, Osamu thinks as he realizes that he’s in deep shit. And attracted to Meian.   
  
  


* * *

  
“I’m going to be rich after this,” Fukuro grins at Meian, throwing him a roll of bandages. “And you’ll need this for later.”   
  


Meian catches the bandages with a scowl. “For what?” He huffs. “I’m not letting that scrawny thing beat me.”   
  


“Scrawny? I’m sorry Mei, but have you _seen_ his arms?” Fukuro snorts, slapping Meian’s back. “Sorry to break it to you, but he might give you a run for your money.”   
  
  


Meian shakes his head. “Fat chance,” he says as Osamu comes nearer and nearer.   
  
  


Fukuro shrugs. “It was nice knowing you,” 

Meian is tired. He places his hands on his hips and waits. That’s all he can do anyway. Glancing up at Fukuro to avoid watching Osamu take one of the vests and change into them, Meian narrows his eyes.   
  
  
  
_Fuck you.  
_   
  


Fukuro grins and raises his arms.   
  


  
_Nah._

“Fighters ready?”   
  
  


Meian’s shoulders tense and Osamu takes his place across from him, Fukuro moving aside.   
  


  
“Battle start, in three—” 

Meian’s eyes lock with Osamu’s and he discovers that they’re the same dark shade as his own.   
  


  
Osamu’s hands are shaking, but he’s accepted his fate. It was win or die trying. He didn’t have a choice; he was ready whether he liked it or not.   
  
  


“Two,” 

Meian’s legs stretched, thighs clenching and Osamu’s shoulders seemed to broaden as he held up his fists.   
  


  
Fukuro was ready to get his promised money. “One!”   
  


  
_Battle start!_


End file.
